


We Didn't Find It

by TheMightyZan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyZan/pseuds/TheMightyZan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran let's Alistair know they didn't find a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Didn't Find It

“Your Majesty, there is an elf here to see you.”

Alistair glanced up at the guard who had stepped into the room and felt excitement trickle through him as the words registered.  There was only one elf that would come to see him, only one that the door guards would let through, and it had been far, far too long since he had last seen his friend.

He told the guard to let them in, and set about righting the papers on his desk.  They could wait till later.  When the door opened again, he started around the desk with a bright smile.

“Lyna-“

He stopped short when the figure pushed back their hood and he was greeted with not the Hero of Fereldan, but rather an Antivan assassin.

“Zevran.”

“Alistair.”

He shifted slightly, his brain rearranging what would be said.  He liked Zevran well enough, they were friends of a sort, but they had never been close and he had never come to the palace alone before.

“Ah, sorry, I’m not…” He trailed off for a moment before continuing.  “It’s good to see you.  Are you here to wait for Lyna?”

It would not be the first time they had used the palace as a meeting place.

“No, my friend, I am not- I’m not here to wait for Lyna.  I came to see you.”

Something about the tone of Zevran’s voice caused Alistair to glance back at him, worry settling in his gut.  “What about?”

The elf looked away, and Alistair finally noticed the strain on his face.  He looked older, much older than Alistair knew him to be, and his eyes were bloodshot and a little too dull.

Zevran opened his mouth to reply then stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again.  “Lyna- she….”  He shook his head and reached up to scrub a hand over his face while Alistair felt the floor drop out from under him.

A loud buzzing started in his ears and he leaned his hip hard against his desk.  He didn’t need Zevran to finish, he knew what he was going to say, but it couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t.

“What happened?”

There was a long drawn out silence before Zevran replied, his voice, low and flat and emotionless, seeming to come from very far away instead of across the room.  “We didn’t find a cure.”

He thought he might want to cry, the pressure building behind his eyes told him he definitely did, but his eyes remained achingly dry.  A thousand memories came to him in the few seconds it took for him to look up again.  Every single smile, and laugh, and hug, and moment.

She was his best friend, she was…

He covered his face with his hands, a shuddered breath working its way into the heels of his palms. He thought he wanted to ask exactly what had happened, but quickly realized it wouldn’t matter, it wouldn’t make any difference, so instead he dropped his hands and focused on the man in front of him.

He was as put together as normal, his armor and cloak pristine and his hair carefully fixed, but the eyes still gave him away, as did the way he clinched his hands just a little too tight.

They hadn’t always gotten along; they definitely had never been close, the rough shards of their mutual feelings for Lyna a constant between them, but seeing the elf now, with none of his customary theatrics, made Alistair hurt for him almost as much as he hurt at the news.

“Zevran, are you… are you going to be ok?”

There was a pause before Zevran’s face seemed to shutter, a single moment where he looked so completely lost that Alistair was sure he must have imagined it.  When he finally smiled up at him it was too bright, too sharp, and even Alistair could tell it was completely false.

“Alistair,” he started before clucking his tongue and giving a small, hollow laugh.  “I am never just ok, but I see your point and can tell you I am fine.”

He wasn’t, they both knew it.

“Do you want to stay-“

Zevran waved off his words and stepped towards him, hand extending to hold something out.  “I only came to let you know, and to give you this.  She… She would want you to have it.”

Alistair took the offered object, a charm on a chain, and felt the pressure behind his eyes again. It was her Joining necklace, the small charm a stylized vial with the dark hint of blood behind the glass of the back.

“Thank you.”

Zevran nodded and shifted uncomfortably before speaking again.  “I need to get going.”

Alistair wondered if it was hard for him to simply remain still without his anchor, or whether it was being with him specifically that made him want to flee.  Maybe it was a little of both.

“Where are you going to go?”

“To see Leliana, she needs to know… and she can help me get in touch with the others.”

“And then?”

There was the lost look again, eyes distant and unsure, before a shrug was offered.  “I don’t know.”

Zevran left with those words, the door shutting a little too hard behind him and leaving Alistair in the surprisingly loud silence.  Staring down at the necklace in his hand he let himself sink back into his chair.

Alone, with no one to distract him, he simply gripped the metal until it bit into his flesh and wept.


End file.
